My Journey to Motherhood – Part 1

When someone has been with their hubby since diapers (slight exaggeration), and surprises the world with a pregnancy announcement at forty-one years of age (Ok, even if they weren’t surprised, we sure the heck were!), you know there’s a story there.

I believe stories are sacred, and I’m about to get real candid and share mine with you. This will be divvied up into Part 1 and Part 2 because…this story is decades long. Thank you for your lens of compassion as you catch a glimpse into a narrative that may be nothing like your own…

Growing up in a blue collar neighborhood of small town Indiana where most kids lived with mom and dad, myself included, that’s what I knew those elementary years. Whether the home lives were dysfunctional or not, I’ll let you surmise. I can assure you I did not sit around dreaming about my wedding day nor becoming a mother, but as high school approached, boys became a more pressing issue and the idea of finding “the one” was often on my mind. This was more about feeling accepted for me than it was anything else. The pressure to have sex was also on. Ugh. I knew I didn’t want have sex with multiple people so, the way I saw it, if I found “the one” now, we could “be together” then and every year to come. Enter Bryan Weisweaver. Problem solved.

We began dating at the ripe age of fifteen. I was smitten. If asked of my loosely laid plans for life while I was in high school, I would have said:

I want to get married and have three kids by the time I turn twenty-eight.

I’m not sure where any of those numbers came from, but I remember having that idea in my head. After multiple years together, it became apparent that we were, in fact, going to spend our entire lives together. Bryan proposed to me the summer after senior year, right before we went away to college.

I quickly became “the freshman who’s engaged” on campus, which won me major cool factor among the girls. Bryan? He quickly became “the dumbest freshman ever.” “Dude, why would you come to college engaged?! You are SO going to miss out.” I definitely romanticized being with my high school sweetheart. It was easy to do. “We’re getting married on our 8 year anniversary. Yep, we’ve been together since freshman year of high school(!) and we’ve never broken up.” I wore it like a badge of honor. Identity wound tightly round.

Both of us assumed we would have kids, in time. It’s what you do. Get married. Have kids. The real choices involve your career, where you want to live, and what to have for dinner.

We dove into our careers. Me, the kindergarten teacher. He, the financial advisor. There’s something about spending the day with twenty-five five year olds (when you don’t know at the time that you’re really an introvert), that leaves you wanting to be alone at night. Aka – don’t touch me. In fact, don’t talk to me for at least an hour. Shhh…I couldn’t imagine having kids in that season. And yet, I did not want to leave the classroom either. My signature phrase went like this:

I cannot be the kind of teacher I want to be and the kind of mom I want to be at the same time.

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And then the train wreck. Head on collision. Poor decision after poor decision. Pain. Trauma. Inches away from divorce. Walls crumbing down, down, down. You can read more about that story, if you’re interested, in the book I’m writing now. Stay tuned. It’s a doozy. It was also in this season that Bryan, grasping for straws to save our marriage, suggested we have a baby. I’m pretty sure I laughed out loud with that one. There was no way that was happening. Not a chance. In fact, it was in this season that I wrote many vows in my heart about me and motherhood, Bryan and fatherhood. They went a little something like this:

I don’t know that I can ever have kids with this man.

Will he ever be trustworthy again?

What if I say yes to having kids and then he leaves me?

I don’t want to be a single parent.

As we worked through our problems, aka came to Jesus, and the process of healing began, things got worse before they got better. It took years and years of therapy and learning the truth of what God says about us and forgiveness and reconciliation before an inkling of “kid talk” was back on the table. This intense time of re-building came during what would be considered prime family-starting time for most. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “Are you going to have kids?” & “You’d be such a great mom.” during those dreadfully painful years. It hurt every time. A reminder that we never know what battle someone may be facing.

Once it became clear that our boat had survived the storms and we were now sailing, even when the waters were rocky, we had God, a support system, and new ways of responding to tumultuous times. We still had things to work on, that’s for sure, but we were being healed and our relationship was no longer in question.

Then came the guilt. Oh, how debilitating the guilt. I didn’t have guilt over not having kids prior to this. Those first two years out of college flew by with teaching, followed by years living in Crudsville, but now…now that we are two humans in a loving relationship…

She has to stay inside on this beautiful, sunny day for her child’s nap time while I get to do whatever I want. Selfish, selfish Tammy.

She’s spending money on her child’s __________ , and I get to __________. Selfish, selfish Tammy.

I don’t even know that I want to teach young children anymore. I really want to do something in the health and wellness field, start a blog, and write. Selfish, selfish Tammy.

This was a terribly confusing time in life and I carried that guilt around like a millstone on my neck. I sought out spiritual guidance. Prayed about it – A LOT. Journaled about it. Asked God to help me KNOW if he wanted us to be parents.

Bryan went back and forth on the issue.

I went back and forth too.

In all of those times of back, back, forth, and forth, we were never on the same page at the same time.

So we waited.

Then, I quit my kindergarten teacher position while at the same time thinking this may be God’s way of leading me to the land of motherhood.

Maybe God has me leaving teaching so then I’ll have the capacity to become a mom.

Little did I know that a baby of another sort was about to be birthed. Almost immediately, B Present Studio was born. Lots of labor pains, little sleep, and all of my needs pushed to the side. This baby just happened to come with a lot more sweat.

I had joy. I had purpose. The learning curve was huge, and I got it wrong more than I got it right. But I did the best I knew how each day. Though it still felt funky to not be a mom when most everyone around me was one, even those younger than I, I trusted that it just wasn’t our time yet and prayed that I would know when/if it ever was. Did I feel less than sometimes? Yes. Left out? Occasionally. Did I go back to my spiritual mentor during these years to talk about this mothering stuff? Yes, indeed. She helped me see that I was “mothering” in many ways. In some of those really hard seasons of wondering if I was missing out/not hearing from God/being the ultimate selfish; there were women who gave me a Mother’s Day card with a most grateful message inside saying that I was the closest thing to a mom they’ve ever had. Cue the waterworks.

Lord, thank you.

I knew it wasn’t the “same,” but I also viewed our path to parenthood likely looking different than the norm. My heart beats fast for foster care. I am intensely interested in adoption too. Dreams of being a mentoring “momma” figure to girls rescued from human trafficking/those formerly in the sex industry are a very real thing in my heart.

Four years after the start of B Present Studio, we found ourselves at a crossroads. Bryan and I both got the nudge on the same day:

It’s time for change. Time to take action.

What is that change you ask? I was asking too! Join me for Part 2 to find out. Coming soon!

NOTE: Though our journeys to motherhood/non-motherhood may or may not share commonalities, I believe in the power of story. I believe we hear and read things that make us think of others in our lives too. If you know someone who has struggled with identifying as a mom or not identifying as a mom, please know you are welcome to share this. Just be sure to catch the next installment. See if it surprises you as much as it did me.

PS – Since it’s Mother’s Day the day I’m posting this, I wanted to wish a Happy Mother’s Day to all the mommas out there. To those mothering in “unconventional” ways. To those waiting to become a mom. To those who are remembering mother’s already gone from this earth, those mourning the loss of babies and children lost…to those with strained/no relationship with their mommas. You matter. You are seen. You are loved.

Tammy